Senior Archon Krenten of the 2nd Fist was tired of the cold.

He had brought his Fist and their attendant serfs along on what was supposed to be a quick campaign to finally eradicate the Elom from their area.

The Drend knew to follow the laws and pay their foreigner taxes, but the Elom had ever been a thorn in the side of the great kingdom of Kaila.

Freedom? Autonomy? Pshah! None has escaped that naive point of view.

There were five cities that already knew their place and paid proper tribute to the capital, but the Elom had never bent the knee. In fact, they seemed to think that the idea of pacifying all settlements around the area in the name of unity was wrong!

How could any civilization think that smaller gatherings of the few could compare to the power of one larger group?

As the third prince it is his duty to bring the strongest warriors to bear against those who might fight against the glory of their kingdom.

If only they could find the savages.

Certainly, the masterwork bronze blades and rangers of the Elom were something to be wary of, but they had shamans who talked to spirits for the ancestors sake!

Everyone knew that spirits were nonsense and that true pacts could be made with any intelligent lifeform.

Well, except goblins, Krenten supposed. Those little bastards never knew when to quit, though it was strange that despite the large bounties on them they never seemed to decrease appreciatively in number to the south. The swamps were just too wet to burn them out and too muddy to fully cleanse.

Damned goblins.

Damned Elom!

Drenden was freezing, having to follow their meandering path north! He was used to the warm weather around the capital that lasted mostly year-long.

As he was miserably complaining to himself, one of his warleaders came up to him with a report.

“Prince Krenten, we have lost contact with a group of our scouts. If it were something like a monster, we might have heard. Assuming we follow the Elom, I think we should stop for now and rest. Their rangers are unrivaled in wooded conditions, and if we are catching up to them our scouts are at risk.” Gleras reported with a salute.

Krenten scratched his left horn in a nervous habit as he thought.

While it was true that the Kaila were more experienced mages and had access to more resources, the Elom had superior bronze workings and were better in darkness and forests with their increased agility.

He couldn’t afford for this expedition to cost him. He was the third prince which meant he was somewhat expendable. With a successful campaign against the Elom he may be able to supplant his brother for second prince, but not if the campaign went poorly.

He had already spent too much of his material and political capital on this. He sighed and relented, “Yes, let’s make camp. Double the sentries for tonight and send our best ghosts to reconnoiter the region.”

Gleras gave a sharp salute and called, “Yes, my prince! At once!”

As Krenten watched the warleader slink away to follow his orders, he continued his musings.

The Elom had clearly left their town in the very late winter, or early spring. He had lost a few warriors to traps left in the town before he had ordered the whole thing burnt to the ground, but they had moved swiftly northeast.

Krenten took a moment to daydream about the baths full of nubile women and sweet wine he was missing with this outing, but at least the camp would be set before dusk tonight. There were plenty of serfs he could choose among to warm his bed.

He was a prince of the rulers of the area, what he wanted should be reality!

His daydream also considered how nice it would be to sweep up a few of the younger women of the Elom for his baths and bedchambers. They were exotic, to say the least. Perhaps he could bring enough back to trade for some more favors in the capitol?

His annoyance at the Elom skills brought a disgruntled huff from his mouth. He could always cultivate the magical energies into his body later. His body easily brought the energies to where he wanted them. He was stronger, better, than most.

He found himself rubbing his horn again, but quickly pulled his hand back down. His father had told him of the inherent superiority of the Kaila since he had been able to understand language.

The horns of their race were said to be magical reservoirs, which was obvious when one saw how many more mages they had against the other sentients. Elom and Drend had ears and tails, mostly the same, where the other sentients had characteristics ranging from scales to strange elements manifesting.

They all had their uses, certainly, but none were as pristine as the Kaila. None had their magical aptitude either.

Plus - no tails.

He wondered what it would be like to have a tail underneath him tonight. Would it get in the way? Too bad those few serfs of the Drend were out of his reach. When captured they rarely lasted long, unfortunately.

Krenten thought of his father who had glowing red eyes and thick horns that flowed from his head back across his skull. His weren’t nearly as majestic, being thinner and pointing away from his head, but he thought the combat applications of his horns were greater.

As the camp settled and the night began to cool, Krenten took a quick journey through the camp to bring two new girls to his tent for the night. He pitied these lesser serfs for their lack of talent and true beauty, but grudgingly accepted they had their charms. If only they would stop acting so meek and defeated!

Regardless, he knew he was on the trail and that they would soon catch the damned Elom to clear them from the area once and for all. It was his grandfather's words that spoke of never leaving an enemy to come back for revenge.

The next morning Krenten called his advisors to the tent. He didn’t even notice the girls from last night were still curled up on pelts in the corner of the room as he addressed his group of advisors.

“What news from last night? Did the ghosts find anything?” he asked.

One of his warleaders with a scaly forehead and no hair who he had never bothered to learn the name of said, “No, my liege. We did lose two more sentries in the night, though I could not tell you if it was from the Twisted or not. The trail of the Elom exodus is still clear, and we believe we are catching up due to the spoor of their draft horses.”

Krenten nodded and said, “How are our supplies? I doubt we will receive another shipment if we continue to head north into this barbaric country - we left the roads long ago.”

Nerthi responded with his clipped voice, “We are a few days away from their area, I think. Otherwise we would not have lost some troops last night.”

Krenten’s face took a sinister gleam as he commanded, “Let’s push ahead in force. Keep everyone close. There can’t be many more of those degenerates left. We will crush them within the week!”

As the third prince watched his Fist and serfs mobilize, he felt a tingle up his spike. It would soon be time to be rid of this last black mark and move back towards civilization!

Olena was awestruck and her head was still coming to terms with what they had learned yesterday.

After Richard had suddenly changed into some sort of ancient and stern thing and upended their lives, he had brought them to their room to sleep for the night.

She remembered how his soul had been made of granite for most of the explanation, but once he had unloaded it all onto them, it seemed that the solid stone was just a fragile and empty eggshell - a tap away from breaking completely.

At first Olena had thought of Richard as some sort of impenetrable soldier. He had an aura around him when they met in that meadow. Soldier was an ancient term from stories. Most of their battle-focused tribespeople would be considered warriors, rangers, scouts.. But soldier was an ancient term that just didn’t fit anything but her imagination.

Until she saw him.

His aura reeked of legions of warriors, standing together. He was the last of a grand host that worked towards no other goal than combat.

She might admit only to herself that she had been enamored by his powerful body, sharp features, and the confidence that was intrinsic to his being.

It only got worse as they began to talk as people instead of with nervous hand signals. When he stripped out of his bulky armor and explained it, Olena had been more fascinated by his body than the shiny metal or smelly padded armor.

He was charming, had self-deprecating humor, and was relaxed and amiable around them.

During dinner, that had changed. Well, it had been changing slowly the whole time they all interacted. It was as if he was an onion that was slowly shedding layers the longer they interacted.

Finally, at dinner when Ethren had basically confronted him and he was getting ready to answer, something else happened.

She had sensed inside of his soul that he needed help somehow. She wasn’t sure how to accomplish that, but she had plenty of experience dealing with survivors of tragedy. Families who had lost members, or people who were feeling uprooted and unsure - these were things that a tribe’s shaman was supposed to deal with. She wasn’t fully trained, but had accrued a lot of experience due to loss from the war.

When she had convinced Elder Yim to allow her to speak to Richard, the last thing she had been expecting was for him to accept her words, then break into a million pieces that somehow forged themselves into a single being within a few minutes.

It was still Richard, but it was more Richard. Like he had been a ghost of himself until he decided to let them in. Once he began to speak - their world changed.

It was as if his mind had begun to crystalize like ice across a pond. His mind began to form a solid surface and expand exponentially, his soul had been revealed to be many many different versions of himself that were coming together. As his mind crystallized into a clear surface, the broken reflection of hundreds of Richards began to fuse together as if the same lake was fixing its cracks to come together.

It was strange. It was amazing. Olena couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t fully intrigued by him.

Most of all, Olena couldn’t stop her mind from reminiscing about the strange energy pouring from underneath what Richard called the Arcstone. It called to her in a way that was hard to understand. It was as if when she glanced into that power, it glanced back at her. There was something there, something that she needed to know.

She didn’t feel comfortable awakening Richard after he had brought them back. She felt he needed time, but she was distractingly attracted to the idea to go and get him so that she could learn more about the Arcstone chamber. She couldn’t get through the door without him, afterall. Yes. That was why she wanted to go into his bedroom. Yes.

Unfortunately, in the middle of the night they had all been awakened by Ethren storming into the room with an ominous report. One of their sentries had been killed in a small skirmish between their group and what seemed to be Kailan scouts. The fight had happened a day or so south of the new village location, but Deilos had brought back that unfortunate news upon his return.

Elder Yim looked pale and drawn, but he was awake and worried. They all talked about what should be done. There was a definite feeling of fear and resignation in the room.

After they had been arguing and conversing for half an hour, Olena finally had enough and said, “We should all come here. Those monstrous people won’t be able to make their way into the wards, and Richard has all but pleaded for us to live here. He seems like an honorable and steadfast man.”

As if to prove her immediately wrong, Richard walked into the open doorway, as if he had been spying on them.

He said, “I really couldn’t not come in after Olena said something like that. I apologize for eavesdropping, but everything that happens within the inner wards is something I can hear. I actually didn’t know that until I was trying to sleep but heard the noises. I mean… I’ve never had anyone here talking to be able to know that.

“Regardless, Olena is correct. I will shelter you from your enemies, but I will also say that I refuse to attack any other sentient beings. It has been my duty to protect all sentient beings from harm for… ever.”

He looked at his feet, then shrugged and said, “I’ll try my best to not listen, I just thought you all should know. Sorry.” then walked back into the now dark passage deeper into the fort looking like an abashed puppy.

Olena pondered Rihard’s response for a moment and then did something she was 100% not qualified to do, but thought she could get away with.

She stood and put on her ‘game face’ then said to Ethren, “Head Ranger Ethren, as the Shaman of the Elom clan, I charge you with bringing our people to safety. You will bring them inside of the outer wards within two days' time. This I call your duty to accomplish. Protect and serve, and keep the wisdom of your ancestors in your heart.”

Ether looked at her like an alien for a moment before his eyes almost sparkled with devotion and wit. He snapped to attention as she had never seen before, then said, “Of course, Elder. I go now to fulfill your wish. Look for the tribe in two days!” Then Ethren took off like a lightning bolt.

Olena didn’t move for perhaps two minutes, then looked to Elder Yim and said, “I’m twenty-nine. If I ever hear anyone else call me Elder, I will make your lives miserable, do I make myself clear?”

Saravren exploded with laughter, and Yim turned away and walked out of the fortress. Olena was sure he thought he was being mysterious, but she heard his cackles a few moments later from outside.

Ethren moved.

Olena may not know what she had just become, but she would probably realize it sooner, rather than later. When she gave him her orders; her eyes were gently glowing.

That didn’t happen by accident.

She had witnessed or realized something that allowed her to be a legitimate shaman for the tribe. She may not have even noticed that her power had been amplified yet, but Ethren was old. He knew the signs of a shaman with a mantle of power.

He had so many reservations about Richard, but most were born of paranoia. He couldn’t deny that when he had seen his eyes blazing with light and age that it didn’t affect him, but he was still worried. Call it professional courtesy that he would always think the worst but hope for the best.

They hadn’t had an official Head Ranger until Olena called him by the title.The burst of pride from that gave him energy, and coupled with the over-saturation of his mana pathways from being inside the wards, he was almost flying through the forest.

The physical characteristics of his tribe were mostly ill-set for mages, but they could reinforce their bodies much easier than others.

As he stepped into the camp just after dawn, he felt that there was something wrong. Taking Deilos’ warnings to heart, he continued south. It was only a half hour before he found a large melee between Kailan ghosts and his own sentries and a few rangers.

The ghosts mostly consisted of Kailan lower class who warped their magics back into their bodies and were trained as children to deal death.

Ethren didn’t pause. He was still running high from Richard’s ridiculous mana nexus.

Two of the sentries were bleeding and falling back, when suddenly Ethren was there. He only had his bronze dagger to work with - he had no time to grab a spear. He appeared behind the ghost before he realized anything amiss. He had the strange horns on his forehead, but his internal organs were still the same. A devastating punch with the dagger into his liver from behind, and Ethren moved to the other group.

These were lost Drend tribespeople - more physically impressive, but slow.

Ethren pushed the sharp tip of his dagger into one’s throat, then turned to face the last.

Ghosts were just shock troops for the Kailan forces, but he quickly jumped into a fight. Bronze was decent at slashing damage but was most prevalent to use the dagger to pierce.

Ethren, coming from behind, slashed quickly at the base of one of the larger wolf humanoids, then while he crumpled, sliced into the front of his tunic into the vital area.

Before he knew it, they were all down. Ethren didn’t need an official title to order everyone back at that point. Experience spoke for itself in the wild.

Within an hour he was inside of the tent looking at the remaining four elders.

He stalked in like a bird of prey and then said, “Head Ranger Ethren reporting. I have been named and tasked by our Shaman to bring the tribe to safety. We must pack up immediately and head northeast for protection.”

Elder Hollen jumped out of his seat and almost yelled, “None but the chief can designate a Head Ranger! You overreach, Ethren!”

Elder Pethel, usually content in his dirt and farms spoke up, “That is incorrect. A true shaman or oracle can name a Head Ranger. I am dubious, but from what I have heard I am also hopeful. We must move regardless, and if Richard has allowed us succor, we should seek it. To do anything else would be to court death.”

The argument went on for a time, but it was inevitably decided to move towards safety with Richard.

Ethren let the debate go for about a half hour, then he simply walked between all of the elders and stared at them.

He said, “This is not a debate, I already have the rangers and scouts moving our people and supplies. Olena became a true shaman from whatever she was exposed to inside of Richard’s wards, I saw her conviction and her eyes glowed green. We are moving. Go - pack your things. We need to move at daybreak.”

Thus began the last migration of the Elom clan.

Ethren prayed to his ancestors that they would be fast enough, and that Richard would be able to protect them. He recalled Richard speaking of not harming sentients, but perhaps there was a way he could help.

He hoped so. They had lost too many, and Richard might be their last hope.